English Rose
by CountDracumunky
Summary: A series of killings lead to complexities for the team. Rated T for violence, but rating may change later. May contain Jane/Lisbon and/or Rigsby/Van Pelt in later chapters, I haven't decided yet. Title sucks, sorry.
1. Chapter 1

Traffic jam.

Third bloody time this week on this road, and it's really starting to get her riled. Tapping her fingers on the steering wheel of the brand new Aston DB9, she sighs. Just typical. In twenty minutes she had managed to move about three metres.

The line of cars in front of her rattles and seems almost to stretch like a feline before moving off again.

If it would just move forward enough for her to turn into the car park of the supermarket. Though it could take another twenty minutes to move the next three metres and ease her car into the space. She ramps her music up another few notches while she waits, finally nosing the blue Aston through the entrance of the car park. She slides it into a slot and kills the engine with a twist of the key..

Opening the door and stepping out, she looks around to assess the situation. The cars are backed up in either direction; no matter how long she waits around she might never reach her destination. The best course of action seems to be to walk, but her shoes aren't built for the four block hike to the hotel. She sighs; decides to walk anyway. What else can she do? She needs to get back, she has things to do. The car will have to wait until the morning.

She takes three steps towards the road, cursing her choice of stiletto heeled boots. Never mind, she would just have to suck it up.

She makes her way down the street. Perhaps she will stumble upon the cause of all the traffic. The line of cars has barely moved since she pulled over and she is glad of her choice. Today she doesn't have the patience to sit in a steaming car and slowly fry.

Buildings pass her by, she is walking with a purpose and barely notices where she is. Without warning her heel catches in a grate at the edge of the pavement and she stumbles.

"Ow" she mutters, draws in her breath sharply against the sudden pain.

Someone catches her elbow, steadies her. Regaining her balance she looks up to see blue eyes, angelic blonde curls and a thoroughly disarming smile.

"Steady" he says, eyes locked onto hers as he relinquishes his grip.

"Thanks" she smiles back, wondering how she managed to miss such a vision coming towards her. She must have really been in a world of her own. By the time the though has left her mind, he has passed her by, carried on down the street.

Californians are so much more friendly than Londoners, she thinks for the thousandth time before pausing to straighten up her boot and continues on her own way.

Up ahead she can see the beginnings of a crowd. As she moves closer, it becomes apparent there are more people than she had first thought. The pavement it blocked with people clamouring to see what was going on. The crush is completely blocking the road she needs to turn down. Great, just great. What is it this time? She wonders. It was starting to get dark, the day just creeping towards dusk and her feet hurt. She had an appointment with a long sleek glass of Caribbean Sunset.

She elbows her way through the crush of people.

Her eyes widen in shock; a delicate hand comes up to cover her mouth, juxtaposing the obscenity that she fails to suppress.

She doesn't know how long she stands like this before the blonde returns, ducks under the yellow police tape into the crime scene.

"Happens to the best of us" he remarks as he passes, "It's not a job for the feint hearted"

She grits her teeth.

"I'd like to speak to the agent in charge"

It comes out sounding more forceful than she feels. He shoots her an inquisitive look.

"Yeah?"

Again with that disarming smile.

Before she has a chance to speak again though, he is joined by a female. Dark haired, striking. And glaring.

"Is there a problem here?" the agent asks, gaze flicking between the blonde haired man and the face of the girl.

"Lisbon!" the man says genially, "I was just about to arrange a meeting with you"

The dark haired woman looks skeptical.

"I was asking to see the lead agent" the other woman clarifies, shrinking slightly under Lisbon's searching and slightly condescending gaze.

Don't make me badge you, she thinks. But Agent Lisbon seems unrelenting.

The woman sighs inwardly, pulls out her card and hands it over.

Lisbon's demeanor becomes marginally less icy.

"What can I do for you, Doctor Marshall?"

Marshall receives the badge back, rakes a searching gaze across the crime scene.

"Are you familiar with a set of serial killings dubbed the Banbury murders?" she asks quietly, brow furrowed.

"The London area of England, eight years ago?"

Something dark flicks across Lisbon's countenance and she steps under the tape to join Marshall on the other side.

"Let's go somewhere a bit more private" she suggests, stepping purposefully towards the crows and motioning for Marshall to follow.

The blonde also ducks the tape, appears at her elbow.

"Patrock Jane" he offers in his smooth tenor, extending a hand.

She takes it.

"Rosalie Marshall" she returns, taking the hand and shaking it.

"Yes..." he agrees, a flash of something unreadable clouding his features.


	2. Chapter 2

**Well. I forgot to add disclaimers and so forth to the last chapter so here goes:**

**I don't own anything, not even the mistakes. They are the property of the overly hyperactive plot bunny which just won't leave me alone.**

**This is my first published fic, so be nice. It hasn't been beta'ed...**

**Oh and I do intend to switch the focus more to the team in later chapters, so please stick with it. **

It is quieter further down the street. It is easier for them to speak that way without having to deal with nosy passers by.

"I'll need to take a closer look at your crime scene, if that's ok with you" says Marshall.

"We can arrange that" Jane butts in, flashing Lisbon that smile of his as she seems put out by his interruption.

"What, do you think there are similarities here we need to be aware of?" Lisbon asks.

"Not similarities so much," Marshall replies, "As a carbon copy of my crime scenes. I think it could be a serious problem"

She bites her lip. She knew as soon as she saw the crime scene that there were three possibilities. One – it is a copycat killer. Two – it is the original Banbury murderer surfacing after eight years, halfway across the globe. Three – the original killer had an accomplice, and that was who was here, butchering young women.

A fourth option briefly crossed her mind before she dismissed it. She didn't believe in coincidence.

She voiced her theories to the two agents.

"Oh boy" Lisbon sighs. Jane remains silent. Marshall pinches the bridge of her nose between her forefinger and thumb. She feels nauseous. The crime scene was a blood bath. She didn't want to go through that again, but looks as though the one that got away has landed right on her doorstep. Again. She swallows, looks up and catches the looks the two agents are giving her. The Banbury murders seem to be relatively unknown in America. It seemed the name was known but little else, at least by Lisbon and Jane. She touches two fingers to her temple before launching into an explanation.

It was a puzzling case. Nine women killed in a little over five weeks, each of them butchered and laid out in pieces, a grotesque tableau which somehow left no clues as to the identity of the killer. Each woman had a different profession, a whole different life. The only connection between them was the name. Banbury.

"If I might ask", Marshall says, lurching back into the present, "The woman – what's her name?"

There's a pause. Neither Agent seems to want to answer.

"She hasn't been identified yet" Jane says, at the same time as Lisbon replies,

"Marshall"

The colour drains from Rosalie's face.

"Excuse me?" she asks, barely audible.

Lisbon looks at her. "Marshall. Amy Marshall"

Rosalie's head reels and for the second time that day she finds herself steadied by Patrick Jane.

She doesnt't see the searching look he gives her, analysing, decoding her.

"You need a minute?" she hears Lisbon's voice on the edge of her subconscious, "Jane, bring her back when she's ready"


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything Mentalist related. Thanks for the reviews guys, I hope that you continue to like my work, and hopefully it doesn't make your eyes bleed O.o While I'm on the subject (ish) I am open to any challenges, or requests of ships or anything else. This chapter hasn't been beta'ed either. Sorry its a short one, I'm writing in between revising for exams. Yeesh. Anyway, have fun =]**

The coffee is almost cold now. Rosalie takes another sip, clutching at the cup like a lifeline. She has barely spoken a word Jane as he sits opposite her, his own cup long finished. She picks up her cup and swirls it, watching the brown liquid create a whirlpool in the polystyrene. It's no good, she can't drink it anymore. She sets the stone cold berverage down and finally raises her eyes to the blue ones opposite.

"It's ok, take your time" he says in that soothing voice.

"I'm done" she replies, her voice harder than she means it to be.

He looks calmly at her. "Are you?"

She holds his gaze level. What can she tell him? She's barely known him five minutes.

Her mobile phone rings. She jumps, fumbles in her pocket and pulls out the sidekick, reading the display before tentatively answering, "Hello?"

Jane regards her coolly, though not so she feels uneasy.

"I told you not to call me" she says icily, but her in control tone is belied by her hand which grips the coffee cup so tightly that the polystyrene splits. When she removes her hand from it, she is shaking. She seems to be listening intently to whatever the other person is saying. After a few seconds she squeezes her eyes tightly shut and hangs up.

She catches Jane's eye. "Ex boyfriend" she offers lamely.

He gazes at her just long enough for her to feel disconcerted and then suddenly launches into,  
"So how long have you been working with the police?"

"Since I came out of uni" she replies, pressing her hand into the table top to stop it shaking. She stands up, making as if to leave. Seeming unwilling to divulge any further information, she gives a thin lipped smile and continues,

"I'd better go and see that crime scene"


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I wish I owned Patrick Jane, but really...  
****Hrmm. I can see this turning into something of a novel. I had intended the story to move a little faster than it is doing, but obviously my hyperactive bunny friend has other ideas. If it isn't already apparent, I know nothing about California, and very little about any police procedures, so I'm making it up as I go along. Hopefully any mistakes in either area don't detract too much from the overall story. I have picked up some of the lingo and procedures from watching all my crime shows, and from my interest in forensics, but I'm not all that well versed. As always, I welcome reviews. Also, a prior warning - I have two important exams coming up in the next week or so, so I may be updating a lot slower than I have been doing. However, I am working on my fic on paper in my spare time, so chapters will arrive as and when I have typed them.  
Finally, an idea which popped into my head about halfway through this morning's chemistry exam was the possibility of doing a Mentalist/Numbers crossover. I think the concept of Jane taking on Charlie could have amusing results - please tell me what you think!  
**

The scene is one of utter carnage. Rosalie suppresses her gag reflex. She had been in this job since her graduation but a scene like this still affected her. And she is still shaken from learning the victim's name. She wonders how much Jane has deduced from her strange behaviour; he seems more observant than most. She stands at the side of the investigation, reluctant to truly get involved. Agent Lisbon strides purposefully over, the rest of her team in tow.

"These are my agents" she introduces them, "Wayne Rigsby-"

This is the broader and taller of the two male agents, dark haired and serious. He nods acknowledgement.

"Kimball Cho-"

The ethnic agent offers a slight upwards tilt of his head.

"And Grace Van Pelt"

The red-haired female agent smiles, adds "Hi there"

"Patrick Jane you already know" Lisbon continues, with a slight movement of her hand in his direction, "He's a consultant"

Rosalie accepts this without asking for further clarification as Lisbon regards her seriously.

"This is Doctor Rosalie Marshall" Lisbon says.

Rosalie watches as Rigsby gives a slight gasp, noticeably elbowing Cho. If Lisbon has seen, she ignores it. Rosalie decides that Lisbon must have already explained a little to them, but it only serves to reiterate her fear.

"Doctor Marshall is with Scotland Yard" Lisbon explains to her agents.

Rosalie nods.

"I was just passing by" she offers, "I couldn't get through so I came to see what was going on"

She hesitates and glances at Lisbon, then over the agent's shoulder at the crime scene.

Taking a breath, she continues.

"This is a Banbury murder"

The agents give her politely interested looks, except for Cho. In fact, she notices, his facial expression hasn't changed once since she first saw him.

"Uh" she says, shaking this off, "There was a set of serial killings in London, about eight years ago. The perp was never caught. Killed nine women in just over five weeks"

She looks again at the body, nods in the direction of it, "This crime scene – its a copy of the first Banbury murder"

Her attention is caught by the action of one of the forensics team, who has inserted a set of tweezers into the mouth of the victim and is drawing a bloody tube from her throat.

"Excuse me..." Marshall says to the agents, and steps over to crouch beside the body, watching intently as the tube is unrolled. It is a sheet of paper.

"Is there anything written on that?" she asks the forensics officer, though her stomach flips as he turns it partially towards her and she sees the thick black lines of writing in marker pen.

"It says 'My name is Amy Marshall'" The officer replies, flipping it round to show her.

Sure enough, through the sticky red film, the lettering can clearly be read.

She gives a soft groan, raises her hand to her face where she chews on a thumb nail, her opposite arm clasped across her stomach.

As she straightens up from her crouch and surveys the rest of the crime scene, she is unaware of being watched by the four agents and their consultant.

"Someone get on the phone to Scotland Yard and find out what the heck she's doing here" Lisbon says, and Van Pelt steps away to oblige.

Jane tilts his head to the side inquisitively.

"I think she knows what she's doing" he offers, turning a fraction towards Lisbon. Her brow furrows.

"She's in my crime scene" she replies.

Jane shrugs and flashes her a smile, watching the progress of the English woman around the crime scene.

"You have a theory" Lisbon accuses him.

"I have a theory" his smile widens. He lets out a long low whistle as Rosalie bends down, causing her shirt to ride up and her skirt to creep down, exposing a few inches of her tanned flesh.

Lisbon elbows him sharply in the ribs; "The theory?"

"Oh..." Jane says, as if he has forgotten, "Yes"

He gives Lisbon that smile again, and she puts a hand on her hip, giving him a look which clearly says that she won't be distracted.

"I think this case strikes a nerve" he says, "She has some sort of a personal connection to this one"

Lisbon gives him a look. "I didn't need a psychic to tell me that"

"There's no such thing as psychics" Jane looks sideways at her.

Over by the body, Marshall turns and makes her way back to stand with the team.

Lisbon looks briefly over at Jane. The theory would obviously have to wait.

Marshall twists her fingers together.

"It's not a copycat" she says quietly. "You see that name card?"

The forensic officer obligingly holds up the bloody sheet, now bagged and tagged.

"The detail of what was written on the sheet was never released to the press during the original investigation. It was only ever documented as 'a sheet of paper' – with no mention of any writing"

Lisbon sighs. "So we're dealing either with the original, or an accomplice to the original. Some kind of apprentice maybe"

It isn't really a question, but Rosalie nods.

It will take some effort, but perhaps this time they can catch the bastard. The real question is what he (or she, Rosalie thinks – serial killers are sometimes female too) is doing on Californian soil.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer, disclaimer, disclaimer. I am working on contacting Aladdin's Genie re: the ownership of the sexiest man on TV, but so far no luck.  
I decided to make this chapter a bit longer than usual, I hope that's ok. Please tell me if you think I'm not getting the characters right, as I've started to have doubts on whether or not my Jane is Jane-y enough. Anyway, I'm not sure how the next few chapters will go down, it all depends on your opinion of Rosalie. As always, I welcome comments and suggestions, and I would also love some guesses about what is going to happen next, as I would like to know whether I have you all fooled or not ;]  
I have no idea whether Californians use the word 'vacation' or not, so if anyone spots any mistakes I have made with things like that then please let me know.  
On a totally different note, does anyone else think those little name blend things for ships are rather awesome? You'll have to wait and see what goes down between Jane and Rosie, but I do think that their names work well together. For example: 'Rane', 'Mane' or... 'Parshall'? Or is that me just finding sad and pointless ways to fill my time?  
**

The office is bustling. In the time Patrick Jane has occupied his favourite spot on the couch, eyes closed and feigning sleep, he has counted the amount of times people have gone back and forth to the water cooler. The heat, it seems, is getting to everyone. Lisbon, he notices, is harder to get along with than usual. She refuses to allow his usual teasing, and he hangs around in her office for as long as he can stand before finally getting bored and giving up.

He can hear Rigsby and Cho discussing Rosalie. Interest in the English agent is high amongst the male officers filtering round headquarters, and he knows this is starting to get under the skin of some of the CBI's female agents.

"I'm tellin' you man, she's hot" Rigsby enthuses.

Cho gives a typical bland reply. Jane feels someone breeze past him, and catches the scent of cinnamon and something slightly woodsy. Grace. He can instantly picture the look on her face as being disapproving, her brow furrowed and a slight pout marring her lips. He knows his estimation is right, though he opens one eye just to check.

He is spot on. Though she seems unwilling to admit it, he knows she cares more highly for Rigsby than she will show. He knows she is career driven and ambitious though, and he wonders which, in the end – her ambition or Rigsby's awkward sexual advances – will win out. The smart money is on her career, but Jane knows that placing the expected bet isn't always the way to win.

He goes back to pretend sleeping. He counts three more people pass by. First one, then another – the come back from the water cooler together. From the sound of the steps, one lighter than the other, one is female, the other male. The third person passes. Quiet footsteps go in the direction of the water cooler. There is a knocking sound. A door opens. There is the brief sound of typing before the door closes again.

Interested, Jane sits up and peers through the glass into Lisbon's office. Doctor Marshall seems occupied by something on Lisbon's desk. Jane guesses the two women are leaving through crime scene photographs or forensic reports.

He springs up from the couch, goes across to the desks where the rest of the team are sitting.

Taking a chair next to Grace, he gives her his most brilliant smile.

"Good morning, Van Pelt" he says in a voice like melted chocolate.

She inclines her head at him, smiles. Jane does not miss the look that Rigsby shoots at him. It is somewhere between a scowl and a grimace, causing the agent to temporarily take on the appearance of an angry troglodyte as his heavy set features briefly contort in suspicion. The winning smile turns briefly onto Rigsby to placate him before Jane returns his attention to Van Pelt.

"Did you get a hold of Doctor Marshall's boss yesterday?" he says, arranging his features to look as innocent as he can manage.

Van Pelt regards him coolly. She knows he is fishing for information, but he locks his eyes onto hers and leans fractionally forward to engage her and she gives in.

"Yes, I did" she says, moving in slightly more towards him.

Rigsby clears his throat loudly and she blushes and rearranges herself so her body is facing her computer.

"She's on vacation, isn't she?" Jane asks the upward inflection in his tone implying ignorance. It isn't hard to tell though. Marshall's skin was tanned, and slightly burned on her arms and shoulders which suggested that she was unused to the magnitude of the Californian sunshine, and her clothes when she had arrived at the crime scene had been flattering but informal, unsuitable for work.

"Not any more" Van Pelt replies. She glances over at Lisbon's door as if she fears she is being watched by her superior. Satisfied that her boss is busy with Marshall, she says in a slightly conspiratorial tone,

"The murder may have been on our turf, but the signature is of a British killer and Scotland Yard want in"

So that was what had put Lisbon in such a foul mood. She would not take well to having to share, particularly not with someone like Rosalie, who seems to have put the boss' back up from the moment she showed up.

Cho taps his pen against the table top.

"So Marshall...?" he begins.

"Doctor Marshall is one of their top experts on this particular set of murders" Van Pelt explains, "Apparently she's written several books on the subject and regularly lectures at some of the country's top universities"

Jane rests his elbows on his knees and steeples his fingers together.

The door to Lisbon's office opens again and she steps out, followed by Rosalie.

Jane examines them. Rosalie seems overly pale, her eyes are shadowed like she has slept very little overnight. Lisbon's body language is open and friendly, but her tone of voice when she speaks shows an underlying hostility.

"Doctor Marshall will be working closely with us on this one" she says, "She's an expert so please take advantage of her expertease"

Is it Jane's imagination or does Lisbon lean slightly on her final word? Coming from Lisbon, this is well masked sarcasm indeed.

ooOoOoOoOoo

An hour has passed. Rosalie has had about all she can stand of shuffling through photos of the dead woman looking for an inconsistency. Apart from it being a different victim, a different country, the photos could almost have been the original ones from the first Banbury murder.

Rosalie scans the information about the victim. Her name is Amy Marshall. She is twenty seven years old. Unmarried. She works as a nurse at the hospital which lies a few blocks away from Rosalie's hotel. Rosalie bites her lip. She was a nurse. A paediatric nurse. She treated sick children, for God's sake, and now she was lying in pieces in a steel drawer in the mortuary.

Morgue, Rosalie silently corrects herself. They call it a morgue in America.

She has given Lisbon and her team all the information she possible can. Case files have been sent over from the original investigation. Assuming that the killer intends to follow exactly the same pattern as with the original murders, they have until Thursday morning to find and apprehend him. Or her. That's six days from now.

She casts a glance over the photographs laid out on the desk. She has every wound on the pale flesh embedded in her mind. Slit throat. Kitchen knife. Missing right hand. Meat cleaver. Empty eye sockets. Fingers.

Rosalie rises with a start, fighting down bile. Fingers. The killer had removed the eyes from each and every one of his nine victims with his fingers.

She rests her hand on her chest, thumb feeling the pulse in between her shoulder blades above the central gap between her ribs. She crosses the room, exits at the door to leave the building.

Outside in the fresh air, she enters the car park. She has left her Aston next to a dark SUV, parked neatly between the twin white lines. She leans on the hood, flinching slightly as the sun-warmed metal touches the skin of her hands.

She should get herself taken off this case, she knows. She's compromised. To her, this one is personal, and she doesn't know how useful she will be when it comes to the crunch.

Her hand goes to her hip. She carries no gun. She is not often to be found in a situation where such a weapon is needed, and she is far from qualified to fire one. She is a scientist purely and simply, a consultant forensics specialist employed where her skills are needed.

"I hope Lisbon didn't scare you off"

She is startled by the voice and turns to see Jane, leaning casually against the side of the car, arms folded against the top of the door, as if it is the most natural thing in the world.

She watches as he runs a hand over the contours of the body, clearly impressed by her choice of vehicle.

"A bit out of my price range" he admits with a smile.

Rosalie manages to smile back, "Mine too, though I don't generally let on"

She catches the slight questioning look he gives her and explains, "A present from my ... ex"

She looks down, and Jane takes the opportunity to give her a swift once-over.

Her arms are crossed over her stomach in a protective gesture and he notices the twinkle of a diamond on her ring finger. From sun-bleached blonde head to stiletto clad feet, she is every inch a beautiful woman.

"He still bothering you?" Jane asks.

She looks up in confusion.

"Your ex?" he clarifies.

"Not really" she shrugs, " I haven't heard from him in a while"

She twists the ring on her finger, it is an unconscious gesture, but one which reveals a lot.

"Didn't he call you yesterday?" Jane presses. He knows he has caught her.

"Oh...yes" she says, trying to sound convincing, but she avoids his eyes.

There's a pause.

"That wasn't your ex, was it Rosalie?"

It is a gentle reprimand accompanied by a light touch to her elbow, but she is taken aback by the use of her first name. It is the first time he has used it, and she finds it compells her to answer truthfully.

"No" she says shortly.

Another pause.

"You should go to the police" he suggests, blue eyes fixed on her face.

"I am the police" she snaps. Her head is reeling. She doesn't know how he has her figured out, but he has invaded something very personal and very private, and she doesn't like it. She is aware of the attempts of this man to psychoanalyse her, and annoyed by the fact that she is susceptible to his charm.

The wind catches Rosalie's hair, temporarily obscuring her face until she pushes it back, tames it. Jane wonders how far he can push her. Without Lisbon here to rein him in, he figures he can charm her into submission. He never did get around to divulging his theory to Lisbon, but he is pretty sure that the good doctor is holding something back. Something about the case has her running for cover, and Jane is willing to put money on the fact that it has something to do with that phone call. People who do not feel under pressure do not leap six feet in the air when the phone rings, and Jane had quietly watched Marshall react in a similar way three times already that morning as first Van Pelt, then Cho and finally Lisbon had received calls. He just needs his suspicions confirming.

"Well" he says brightly, "I'm sure you have it all under control"

His smile widens a few notches when she visibly relaxes. She has obviously decided that he is going to let the subject drop, and she has let her guard down.

"So" he says, "Do you have plans for later?"

She shakes her head. She is pretty sure that her evening would be well spent in discovering the many wonders of the hotel bar. She feels she deserves something of a treat.

"Let me guess" says Jane, "Your favourite food is Greek. Light, fresh, healthy. Salad – you like salad"

"You psychic or something?" she smiles, only half joking.

"Is that your job?" she adds, "You're a consultant psychic?"

"Don't be silly" he replies, "There's no such thing as psychics. I read people – not minds"

"But it is your job" she muses, "Interesting. I guessed as much"

She smiles.

"Really?" he asks, pleased. So she had noticed him mentally filing away all the information her body language had inadvertantly given him.

She raises an eyebrow. She too can play his game, but for now she will save it.

"So about this Greek food?" she questions.

His eyes sparkle mischievously.

Great, she thinks. What has she got herself into this time?


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer - I finally got in touch with the genie about the ownership of Patrick Jane; he says no can do, they would like him back in workable condition and they don't trust me to keep him that way.  
So in this chapter, _italics_**** denote flashback.  
****I hope this one isn't too boring, but I think it is necessary to the story - hopefully you will agree.  
I'd like to say hi and thank you to SpaceAnJL and also hi to Chris. I hope that you don't think my Jane is too**** boring. The sad truth is, I'm just not a witty person.  
****On a side note, I'm working on a Mentalist one-shot which should be finished fairly soon. Thanks for reviewing everyone!**

_Back at her hotel, Rosalie stands in front of the mirror in the bathroom, twisting her hair into a loose knot behind her head. She has a stray curl that refuses to sit straight, and it is annoying her. She has changed her outfit numerous times in the last hour. Nothing she has brought with her seems suitable, even though her holiday wardrobe was chosen with the care and attention of an expert. Eventually she gives up on her hair, deciding that it will do fine loose, in waves down her back. _

_She reviews the day behind her, mulling it over in her mind. Patrick Jane, she decides, is a man like no other. She has yet to have him worked out, and it irks her. Behind all the charm and the smiles and the good looks which he obviously knows how to use to his advantage, there is something else. She wonders what it is from his past that he keeps so deeply buried. _

_Lisbon, meanwhile, is, in many ways, his exact opposite. Blunt, and often unsmiling, except for the odd time she thinks no one is looking. And sometimes Rosalie has noticed her repress a grin at something that Jane says or does. Yes, decides Rosalie, she likes to keep up the image of being stoic and detached, but there is more to her than she shows. _

_She welcomes the chance to get to know the team better. She gathers from Jane that they often eat out after work, if time permits them to. Rosalie is hoping that the subject of the case will not come up at all; she is tired of having to fend off Jane's searching questions and suspicious looks, as if he thinks she hasn't noticed._

_Finally she decides she is ready. She grabs her bag and searches around for where she has left her room key. She spots it on the top of the cupboard by the bed, snatches that up too and shoves it into her bag alongside her phone and purse._

_Outside, she goes quickly to her car. Although it is now early evening, the heat of the day hasn't yet started to diminish. Rosalie is thankful for the heat; she is too fed up of the London rain and she welcomes the change. _

_Inside the car, she turns the stereo on, fits herself into the seat and turns the ignition. She smiles as James Brown starts to filter out of the speakers. _

_Nosing the car out of the exit, she pulls off onto the street. She knows the way to the restaurant, having passed it several times as she has been driving around the city. _

_She glances in the mirror, turns the corner. It is only a ten minute drive from her hotel, allowing for any possible delays from traffic and she has set off in good time. _

_Another corner and the car behind her changes direction, continuing straight on. She frowns at the black estate car which has taken its place.  
Don't mind me, she thinks as it suddenly switches lanes. _

The song draws to a close and goes onto the next one. It is one of Rosalie's favourites. She nods her head in time, casts a glance around her. He brow furrows. That estate car looks familiar, it is the same one as before, the one with the careless driver. Just my luck, she thinks, now hurry up and turn off already.

"Doctor Marshall?" a voice interrupts her thinking. She forcibly drags her eyes away from the car parked outside the restaurant which has caught her attention.

"Sorry" she smiles, "I was miles away"

"I was just saying, I hope your vacation hasn't been spoiled too much by all this"

Grace Van Pelt smiles earnestly.

"Oh... oh no" Marshall replies, returning the smile, "I'm glad of the work actually"

She doesn't elaborate. She is telling the truth, but not wholly so. She neglects to add the part about why she is glad of it.

"So have you visited California before?" Van Pelt continues.

"Once" Marshall replies, "I have a friend here"

"Your friend often give cars as presents?" Jane asks genially.

"Jane!" Lisbon hisses, glaring at the consultant.

Marshall's smile becomes tight-lipped.

"Actually I believe mine was the only one" she says, somewhat icily.

Everyone except Jane and Lisbon stare at their plates. Jane is still smiling politely and Lisbon is still glaring.

Marshall picks up her wine glass and sips at it, her eyes defocusing over the top. Aside from the occasional comment here and there, the meal has, in general, been pleasant. As she had hoped, Rosalie has found it enlightening. But she can't help her mind straying to Thursday. Is it five days left now, or four? Five. They have five days to prevent the next murder, and she is afraid that it will not happen. She has warned the team about the escalation. They are aware of the likely key points of the next murder – that the victim is likely to be slightly older than the first, and to work in a bank. Assuming that the killer follows the same pattern, this – and that her name will be Marshall – will be what they ought to be able to count on.

Her eyes flick back to the black car stationed outside. With the pressure of everything that is happening, her mind is beginning to play tricks on her.

She reminds herself that the third victim will come in quick succession after the second, leaving them two lots of evidence to sort through at once. Her theory has always been that victims two and three were killed on the same night and dumped seperately, but this has never been proved either way.

Though, Rosalie thinks, they weren't really dumped at all. Instead, they were laid out with precision and care, each scene virtually identical to the last.

"You gonna get that?" Rigsby asks.

Rosalie recovers as best she can. She had not realised her phone had been ringing,

She nods.

"Excuse me" she says, and gets up from the table to answer the phone outside.

oooOOOooo

Teresa Lisbon looks across the table at the consultant. Now would be the perfect time for him to explain his theory, with Marshall safely out of the way answering a phone call which, by the looks of it, could take some time to complete. Marshall is pacing backwards and forwards, seemingly listening rather than speaking.

"Jane – how about letting us in on your theory?" she asks.

Jane grins, leans forward.

"Oh, yes" he says, "Well"

"Theory?" Cho asks, spearing a piece of lettuce on his fork.

"Jane has a theory" Lisbon explains, "As to a few technical points he believes we may have overlooked"

"I'll start at the beginning" Jane offers, and then launches straight in without waiting for the go-ahead, "Are the murders connected?"

He waves his fork airily. "Yes. To each other, and to the original Banbury murders of which Doctor Marshall is such an expert"

Lisbon looks about to interrupt, likely to tell him that she didn't need a psychic to tell her that, but he ploughs on, "Is it the same killer? I don't know. My money is on there having been an accomplice in the original murders and that is what we are dealing with. And now we come to the interesting part. What brings a killer from London, England; to California, USA?"

He looks smug.

"Well what?" Van Pelt asks.

"Go on Jane, what?" Lisbon adds in.

Jane's brow furrows slightly.

"Doctor Marshall does" he says, "And I think that is where our problem lies"

"What, you think she's involved? She's the accomplice?" Lisbon asks, flashing a look through the window to Marshall outside.

"Not _involved_ per se" he says, "And not the accomplice"

"Then what?" Lisbon asks, replacing her utensils onto her plate.

"That flashy car was a present from her fiance. That's who she's visiting here in Sacramento, but I think they fell out. She's reluctant to talk about it, but she's still wearing the ring, so I don't think the engagement's off. I also do not think that's who's stalking her"

"Someone's stalking her?" Cho asks, looking at Jane.

"And that, Sherlock, is where the connection is" Jane smiles, "It is also the reason that she is so worried about the case"

Lisbon frowns. This isn't good for their case, and neither is it good for Marshall. There is no evidence as to her involvement other than Jane's theory, but she is inclined to trust him. He is rarely, if ever, wrong – and in this instance her gut feeling is with his.

"Great" she says, "Just great"


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own.**

**I'm looking for a beta, both for this and a couple of other WiPs. If anyone is interested in helping then please get in touch. I don't mind you being brutal with my work.**

**Bonus points go to anyone who can guess what the woman who found the body was doing. I haven't thought of anything already, so the 'correct' answer will be the one which amuses me the most. Have at her.**

**Sorry it is another short chapter, the next one will be longer. Promise =] **

Suddenly Kimball Cho hates Thursdays. Thursdays mean pineapple pizza and finishing paperwork left from the rest of the week. It is the end of the week before the week ends.

And this Thursday is particularly bad, he thinks, looking out over today's crime scene. It is much like the one from before, except that it is a different victim and location. She has been identified as Selene Marshall – the parallel to Chloe Banbury – and this latest murder has cemented in the minds of the team that the killer will follow exactly the same pattern as eight years ago. What remains to be seen is whether or not he will foil the attempts of the CBI at catching him the same way as he left the English police foxed.

In spite of himself, Cho found that he could admire the killer. Each murder was planned to perfection and the victims left displayed in places where they were bound to be stumbled upon by members of the public. This killer considered himself an artist. He was an exhibitionist, and hopefully that would be his downfall.

Knowing everything that was going on may be Jane's domain, but he is not the only one on the team who is capable of noticing things.

This second murder has made Lisbon attack the new evidence with fervent vigour, he sees. Lisbon does not like serial killers, with very good reason. And it has definitely perturbed Marshall more than ever. She is like a coiled spring now, quiet for the most part but Cho had seen her start violently when Rigsby touched her on the shoulder to point out the directionality of the blood drops on the concrete.

He wonders how she will deal with it when more victims start surfacing, and why she has not told Lisbon or Jane, Minelli even, what is causing her so much grief over the case. He supposes she does not want removing from the investigation, but had it been Cho's vacation ruined by the killings, he would have wanted taking off if only to go back to relaxing on the beach. Cho himself isn't necessarily a beach person, but he has Marshall pegged as a sun and shopping person. She seems quite down to earth when she isn't busy being terrified, but the blonde hair and high heels give off a certain vibe.

She was going to have a hard time of it in the next few days with the victims coming in quick succession. He could understand her feeling nervous that she had the same name as the victims. Really, who wouldn't? But he thought that if this was her only reason for behaving so strangely, she was overreacting. He knew about her stalker, but Jane didn't seem to think that she was in any imminent danger, and he was usually right.

ooOOOoo

"So run that by me one more time" Lisbon says, "You found the body when you were out doing _what?_"

The woman sighs, runs a hand through her hair. Her reply is stifled as a car goes past, blasting the horn.

A few steps away, Marshall stands deep in thought, gazing at the second body. She is lamenting her own bad luck and she can see her career slipping away from her with every successive day. In other circumstances, she might have hoped that the CBI would offer her a permanent job. She would love to relocate to California and not have to put up with her soap opera family and her power crazed boss. But she knew that she was performing far from her best, and that it was highly unlikely to entice the CBI into headhunting her. She glumly considers the possibility that it is only a matter of time before they toss her off the investigation altogether. They had better people than her working on this, and they didn't have the roadblocks that her own agency had faced when trying to track down the killer. It had just happened to come at the same time as massive budget cuts and a huge strike over pay.

She shakes her blonde head, wondering how it came to this. She can't pinpoint the exact time that her job became a real job, instead of something she loved for its own sake, but she doesn't see that changing now.

She watches as, evidence photographed and collected, the body is loaded into the zip-up black body bag to be put into the coroner's van. Time to go, it seems. She turns in a daze, not aware of anything around her anymore. There is something more important than evidence at the forefront of her mind, and that is her own life.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer. Still do not own.  
****Beta'ed by NsCvIuS - a million thanks and e-cookies. **

The day has been less than perfect. The atmosphere in the office weighted against the amount of paperwork and the evidence which needed sifting through, has left everyone feeling drained and in need of a break.

Everyone leaves slowly, seemingly unable to muster the drive to join the Friday night rush home. Even Jane's mood is subdued, which only seems to drag everyone else further down.

Lisbon is the last to leave, or so she thinks until she exits her office to find Jane lying on the couch with his eyes closed and his hands clasped across his stomach. He doesn't open his eyes or move when she voices her goodbye. Instead, he speaks quietly, a small smile appearing on his face.  
"Have a good weekend, Lisbon" he says, "Try to relax a little"

"My weekends are _very_ relaxing" she protests, but he only widens his smile onto a smirk which says he knows better.

She sighs a little, but a smile lights her face too, in spite of it. She intends to relax this weekend anyway; she has made a point of leaving all work-related items in her office so that she isn't tempted away from getting some much-needed sleep. She dislikes serial killer cases with a passion, particularly those which leave big messes and little solid evidence. She feels guilt and disappointment settle in her stomach every time a new victim is found. She hates the powerless feeling it brings as someone else loses a mother, sister, daughter, wife, all the time while there is barely enough evidence of the killer to even point the team in the right direction.

"Bye, Lisbon" says Jane from the couch, raising a hand to wave cheekily at her, "Time to go home and sleep and not think about work"

She frowns a little, but she knows he is only trying to make sure that she doesn't drop dead of exhaustion. He can talk – the man seems to exist on a few sporadic moments of sleep, whenever and wherever there is a surface suitable for snoozing available. She decides to obey his order anyway and leave. She intends to spend the weekend sleeping off the previous week, before Monday comes around again and threatens to render her incapable of leading her team.

"Goodbye Jane" she says, and turns to leave.

It takes only a few steps to carry her through the swinging double doors until she stands in front of the doors of the elevator and pushes the button to call it. Inside the elevator is steel and sanitized, a closed off part of the building with no windows to look through to the outside. After the doors have slid closed, the ride down to the ground floor lasts no more than a few seconds and Lisbon is out and moving towards the main exit before she really takes any notice of where she is. The evening sun, barely less bright than that which California has been baking under all day, flashes off the glass front window and settles on the hood of a car parked outside, causing her to raise her hand to her eyes to fend off the glare. Her own SUV stands immobile a few spaces down, a black contrast to the sleeker cars preferred by Jane and Marshall. Jane has wondered out loud more than once if the size of the car is to compensate for something else, but Lisbon likes it for its imposing presence and for the practical factor. The job sometimes calls for them to be in situations where a sports car with minimal clearance just wouldn't cut it -- and Lisbon would rather be safe than sliding backwards down a hill or stuck firmly in the sand with no way of getting out.

She pulls the key from her pocket and opens the door to climb inside. Once seated, she presses her head against the head rest and closes her eyes. The weekend will be a welcome break from awkward questions and a low-spirited team, but it would bring no respite for the killer they were chasing. They seemed to be continually snapping at his heels, no closer than ever they had been. Lisbon for one, would be glad when the whole thing was over, and if the killer was caught then so much the better. She turns the latest developments over in her mind. They have recently come to the conclusion that the killer does not know his victims personally, more likely that he is selecting them from some kind of list or database based on their surname. This has led them to believe that he is in such a position to do so. Perhaps he works in a bank, or clinic where he has access to customer or patient records. Or perhaps he is picking names from the phone book. It's a starting point, if nothing else. They will be able to begin pursuing inquiries along these lines, maybe there is a secretary somewhere who has noticed a colleague behaving strangely or a customer who has noticed someone behind the desk looking at her in the wrong way.

Lisbon puts the key into the ignition and brings the car to life. She is aware of the fact that they are still in need of finding one or more primary crime scenes. Her money is on the killer having some sort of 'workshop' – maybe an abandoned building or a rented storage facility, maybe even his own garage – in which to conduct the actual murders before later transporting the bodies to his chosen locations around the city. All are placed such that they will be found quickly and not go unnoticed. It occurs to Lisbon that perhaps the killer will need to kill again more and more frequently to get his kicks, like a drug user needing their next hit so much sooner to get the same high than before. She hopes that this will cause him to be clumsy, and perhaps leave them more of a clue than before. So far they have no fingerprints and no foreign DNA on the bodies, no unusual trace and indeed, no indication of who the killer might actually be. It is almost as if the crime scenes have been combed for anything which might possibly incriminate someone – and perhaps they have. With the care with which the bodies are laid out, Lisbon wouldn't consider it a surprise if it turned out that that the area surrounding the bodies has been cleaned and picked through to remove everything except what the killer wants to be found.

Still, all that can (in theory) be forgotten for now, at least until Monday morning. That is, of course, assuming that nothing related to this case happens over the weekend. It will be best to start again with a new week and fresh ideas. It will benefit all of them to end this quickly, particularly with the somewhat strained relationship between her team and Doctor Marshall, whom Lisbon just can't decide whether or not she likes. Even her usefulness to the case is debatable since she seems far more preoccupied by other things. She has the air of someone who probably could be much more useful under better circumstances, but Lisbon has yet to have had the talk with Minnelli about Marshall's probable stalker situation.

She can picture how the conversation will go. Round in circles, most likely, as they argued over whether interfering in Marshall's personal life was acceptable or not if there was a possibility that the investigation could be damaged because of it. Even if they agreed on a point, there would probably still be some degree of argument. It was just Minnelli's way. Lisbon frowns and eases the car out into the street.


End file.
